


I know who you are

by hinataboke9



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Genderfluid Kozume Kenma, Kenma goes by They/Them, Kuroo is a good boyfriend, Nonbinary Kozume Kenma, Other, YouTuber Kenma, and also kenma has long hair, good ending, kenma is afab because that's what i can relate to and i didn't wanna mess up, kuroken sharing an apartment, sorry kenma i spilled all my dysphoria on you, this is set a few years in the future but not as much as the timeskip if it makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:55:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24455542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hinataboke9/pseuds/hinataboke9
Summary: He's been there ever since, but still, Kenma finds it hard to lay all of this on him, and as much as he does understand, there's no way he'll ever really know what it's like. Kenma is alone in this, they know, that's why it's a burden so hard to share.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 9
Kudos: 128





	I know who you are

"That's it for today, you guys." Kenma waves at the webcam as they try to read some of the last comments. They force a little smile. "Se you next week."

The room goes silent.

As soon as they press the "end stream" button their eyes are closed, head in their hands as grown out hair falls onto the keyboard.

After a long breath, they blink a few times and just stare at the bleached ends for a while, wondering if it would be better to just cut it all off.

Their own voice echoes in their mind, _see you next week_.

It's lower than it used to be, Kenma always does their best keep it down as much as possible, but today something isn't working, and it' so high pitched, and it feels like it belongs to someone else.

 _See you next week_. They try to shake it away, but it won't go.

Kenma never wants to speak again.

_See you next week._

They let out another heavy sigh, and the blonde hair gets blown away from the spacebar.

A part of them almost reaches for the scissors. That wouldn't change anything, though. Short hair isn't going to make the misgendering stop. It's certainly not going to change the fact that their binder feels tight around their ribs, as a reminder of how wrong their body feels. Not tight enough. It's never enough.

There's a tingling in Kenma's eyes and their insides tighten, hands closing into fists on their temples, then dropping on the desk as they breathe shakily, pushing their shoulders forward and trying to make their chest sink back, as far away as it can get, and they don't know what to do with themselves, fists tight and shaking in this body that's suddenly so foreign, this tensed up face that they show to thousands of people that will never understand, day after day.

A tear drops on their sleeve.

They hear the sound of a door opening, keys being dropped on the table, but they don't move. Then there's quiet, familiar steps coming from the hallway, then a hand rests on their back. They don't say anything, but they don't move away either.

"Hey." Kuroo drops his gym bag on the floor by the desk and places both his hands on their shoulders.

Kenma can't push their voice out, and they don't want to either, but it doesn't matter. Kuroo knows exactly what's going on. It's been a long while since the first time he's seen Kenma like this. Today is just particularly bad.

"It's okay." He whispers.

Kenma only wants to shout that it's not, that everything is crumbling and they don't feel real anymore, they want to scream and crawl out of this skin, out of this dark place they got lost in, but they say nothing and just shake their head.

Their shoulders twitch with a sob, and their fingernails dig into their palms. Their head lowers until it's touching the desk, and a muffled noise escapes their throat. They really don't want to cry like this, they don't want to put this weight on Kuroo, they don't want any of this at all, but it's hard to imagine this feeling ever going away.

Something is wrong, so wrong, but it's been so long that, even though Kenma is still unable to describe it, this feeling is almost familiar. They know it, they know when it's about to come, and they know the only option is to wait for it to leave.

They shrug Kuroo's hands off. They want to apologize, but nothing comes out.

He's been there ever since, but still, Kenma finds it hard to lay all of this on him, and as much as he _does_ understand, there's no way he'll ever really know what it's like. Kenma is alone in this, they know, that's why it's a burden so hard to share.

It's almost like anger, a frustration that just won't let them breathe, that extends to their surroundings painting everything else black too, and for a minute they just keep still, blinking their unfocused eyes and clenching all of their muscles to try and stop the shaking.

Kenma's whole body is someone else's, their legs and their waist and their voice and their chest, their hair, their arms, the salty tears rolling down to their lips.

They're tired, so tired of it, so exhausted that the anger fades away. It stays for some time that feels like days, then leaves them hollowed and cold, their face and their hair wet, and their breathing ragged. So they finally reach out again, for something real and alive, forcing their head up, pushing on the desk to make the chair turn.

Kuroo is still there, waiting, silent. He gets up from his chair, Kenma doesn't know when he got it, or how long it's been, and he holds onto their hand as soon as they raise it, and takes half a step closer.

"Kenma," his voice is quiet and near, and warm, it makes Kenma's name sound like it's theirs. "Let's sit on the couch, okay?"

Kenma nods imperceptibly, and is barely aware of Kuroo's arms around them, half-carrying them across the room until they're sitting again, and their damp cheek rests on his chest.

Kuroo keeps them close and his fingers move through Kenma's hair with slow, rhythmic movements. His heart beats softly compared to the loud hammering against Kenma's ribcage. Their fingers curl around the other's bright red shirt, and the fog in their mind makes a little room for that feeling.

Kuroo's lips press on the top of Kenma's head.

"You'll be okay." He whispers, and tucks a strand of hair behind their ear, fingertips slightly brushing on their cheekbone. "I'm here."

His long arms wrap easily around Kenma's small shoulders, and his legs keep them close too, and Kenma lets everything else around disappear, and lets their tears stain Kuroo's shirt, and their limbs feel further away.

None of them say anything for a while.

Kuroo is still playing with their hair. It's been a minute, or maybe half an hour. Kenma's hands aren't trembling anymore. There's no more tears, even though everything still feels off.

“I know who you are.” Kuroo murmurs, and Kenma feels a wave of relief go through them along with these words. Kuroo knows. He looks at Kenma and sees _Kenma_. He always has, he was the first to know and the only one to know for real, and the only touch that feels comforting.

It's okay if Kuroo knows who Kenma is.

Then his hand reaches for the neckline of their hoodie, moving it aside just a little, and Kenma's heartbeat picks up a fast pace again. His fingers rest on the binder strap. "How long has it been?"

Kenma doesn't give an answer, and they can feel the soft sigh in their hair. They close their eyes, hide their face in Kuroo's chest, to try and ignore everything for a few seconds more.

"You were wearing it this morning, and when I left." He continues, and for a moment he holds Kenma a little tighter.

"Your ribs need space, and your lungs need air." He gently pushes Kenma's chin up until they can look at each other, and Kenma blinks a few times through their blurred vision until it focuses on Kuroo's eyes, kind and loving but resolved and unremovable as he leans down, and kisses their forehead. "And your brain needs blood. Remember?"

There's really no way of getting around it. There's never been a way to make Kuroo stop taking care of Kenma. So they hesitantly pull themselves up, turning to face their boyfried properly, and forcing their fingers to let go of his shirt. Their hands fall motionless in their lap.

Kuroo moves forward slowly, and places his lips on their cheek, still damp with salty tears, keeps them there for a long instant, then his hands pull down the zipper, and the hoodie falls quietly off Kenma's shoulders. They keep their gaze still on Kuroo's face, refusing to move it away as he takes the bottom hem of the binder, and pulls it up, and Kenma raises their arms and lets him do it.

Kuroo pulls the zipper all the way up again, and his eyes are still on Kenma's. His hands are on their face now, and Kenma feels some sense of reality coming back to them, so they put their own hands on top of Kuroo's, pressing them down as their breath itches.

They take their legs around Kuroo's waist and finally open their mouth to speak, but close it again uncertainly.

They reach out, hands on Kuroo's chest, and they clear their throat. Their voice sounds scratchy when they let it out, as if it hasn't been used in years, it's barely audible and they don't dare to raise it.

"Kuro," They call, and Kuroo's lips curl up ever so slightly at that name. Kenma's hands move around his shoulders. "Can you-"

They stop talking, because Kuroo's hands are already pulling them in, arms tight around their waist, and their legs are keeping their bodies pressed together.

Kenma can feel the other's warm breath on their neck, and his black hair tickling the side of his face, and the comforting pressure of being held so close, so tight that they don't need to worry about where they end and where Kuroo starts.

"You look like Kenma," He whispers, and his lips are in the crook of their neck. "And you sound like Kenma."

Kenma really doesn't know how Kuroo can be so loud, yet so quietly soothing when it's needed. They never liked being touched, but this, it's like air.

Kuroo kisses their hot skin gently. "My Kenma." He adds, even more quiet.

Kenma breathes in deep, and closes their eyes. Kuroo smells like soap, and like the gym, and like whatever he put in his hair without looking in the changing room mirrors, probably.

The world feels a little less wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I wrote this at 3am (I write all of my things at 3am), and this is obviously my own experience of being trans so don't take it as a universal example. This wasn't very thought out, I was just feeling some type of way and I just love Kenma using gender neutral pronouns and I relate to them a lot, so here's the thing, I hope you liked it!


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